My Soul to Keep (30 page)

He must open her mind a little at a time. But first, their reacquaintance would continue. Tonight, perhaps he would tell her about his childhood so long ago, a time he’d nearly forgotten because he thought of it so little. He would tell her about his father, who died so bravely in battle. And his mother, whose lips curled at the edges like Jessica’s. The image of his mother’s full lips was all that was left of her in his memory. What had her face looked like?

“I shouldn’t have acted like that at the table. I guess I freak out when I can’t understand what you two are saying,” Jessica mumbled after a long silence.

“It wasn’t just you. Kira was being a brat, Jess. Want to go for a walk after she falls asleep?”

Jessica gazed at him thoughtfully. He recognized that look; she was examining him, struggling to understand. To accept.

“You’re good with her,” she said.

Dawit cocked his head dismissively. “You are too.”

“No,” she said, her voice unsteady. “It’s not the same. I mean, I know she loves me too. But I remember how I felt about my father. To her, you’re …”

“I’m one of the parents she loves,” Dawit said. “That’s all.”

Jessica smiled, sitting up in the bed with her legs curled beneath her, a pose that made her appear very young. Her movements were stilted, as though she were dazed. In that instant, Dawit felt profoundly sorry for her. She looked weary of mind and spirit, the way she looked much more often since the cabin. He had stripped something from her, perhaps her sense of balance. He was asking too much, too fast.

At what point, he wondered, does the bent twig snap?

“Want to go to sleep?” he asked gently.

“No,” she said, lifting her shoulders and straightening her back as she gathered her breath. “Let me make up with Kira, then we’ll put her to bed and go take a walk. I want to hear your bedtime stories. I want to hear all of your stories.”

Then, silently, Jessica mouthed his name:
Dawit.

That night, as they walked in darkness, Dawit told his wife about the light across the African skies.

Kira had never been afraid of the man in the cave.

She was still wearing diapers the first time she saw him, when Daddy brought her to the cave to get away from the sun. She could barely see him then, just his shadow against the wall like a jellyfish, but she laughed. “Grannaw,” she said, pointing, because she wasn’t old enough to say “Grandpa” yet.

The bigger she got, the better she could see him. He looked like a real person now, with dark skin and a white moustache and a black baseball cap. He was always eating a Whopper. She was starting to think, even though she’d never tried it, that if she ever wanted to just sit on his lap or reach to touch him, she could. He was just that close.

It was magic, maybe.

Kira knew their house was in a magic place because she could hear the voices all around. Sometimes, when her window was open at night, she woke up because she heard fighting. Other times, it was laughing. On some nights, all the voices came to visit and the treetops sounded like the school playground through her window.

It didn’t surprise Kira that Mommy and Daddy never heard the voices except for Night Song, who liked to play tricks with her whistles. Or that they never saw Grandpa even when they were all in the cave and she could see him perfectly clear, not just his jellyfish shadow, but the overalls and shoes he was wearing too.

There were a lot of things grownups couldn’t see and hear.

Kira liked visiting Grandpa. She tried to visit at least once every day, after Daddy picked her up from school and she finished her coloring homework and went outside to play before dinner. Daddy thought she was playing with Imani, the dolly Peter bought for her—her especially favorite doll—but she wasn’t. She was in the cave, talking to Grandpa.

She felt smart when she was with him. He could use any kind of words, big or small, or any language at all, and she always understood what he was saying. Sometimes they didn’t have to open their mouths, not even a little, and they could talk with their heads.

How’s my little Pumpkin today?

Tell me a story, Grandpa.

Before, Daddy was the best storyteller Kira knew, and Mommy was second-best. But Grandpa was the best of all, the bestest in the world. When he told stories, he could change his voice to sound like a woman, a lion, a sorcerer. He could make his eyes glow in the scary parts, and his laugh made her dance in the funny parts. When he talked, they weren’t always in the cave anymore. She felt like she was in a tall tower, like Rapunzel, or flying on Aladdin’s magic carpet.

“I’ll tell you a story, all right,” Grandpa said, moving his lips this time. “Did I ever tell you the one about Lin?”

Kira hugged Imani close to her so her dolly could listen too. She shook her head. “Who’s Lin?”

“Why, Lin was a little boy who lived all the way across the ocean in China. He was a lot like you, Pumpkin. He was smart and handsome, the happiest little boy in the village. He lived with his Mommy and Daddy in a house at the edge of a forest. There were wet rice paddies all around, so the forest was the only place he could play. One day, Lin was walking in the forest looking for sweet berries to eat when he happened upon a fearsome red dragon.”

Grandpa made his eyes turn bright red, and Kira laughed even though she hugged Imani tighter because it scared her.

“Well, Lin had heard enough about dragons to know that they can blow fire out of their noses, and they don’t like little boys, so he was frightened and ran away. He didn’t play in the forest for a long time. But one day, weeks later, he fell asleep beneath a sapling. When he woke up, he felt something warm and wet against the side of his face. He opened his eyes, and there was the dragon staring him right in the eye.”

Kira gasped.

Grandpa held up his finger. “But then, Kira, a very strange thing happened. Lin realized the dragon hadn’t hurt him and his eyes looked friendly, so he reached out and touched the dragon’s long, scaly snout. It felt soft. The dragon smiled. From that moment on, Lin and the dragon were very best friends.”

“Did he bring him over to his house?”

“The dragon was too big to go into Lin’s house. You would need a palace for a dragon that big, and these were poor folk. But the two of them played in the forest, and the dragon was so big that Lin could climb on his back and sit between his wings.”

“Like Princess!” Princess had been just like a horsey. Kira didn’t want to think about Princess too much, or she’d cry.

“Yes. Exactly like Princess,” Grandpa said, smiling a wide smile at her, just like Ms. Raymond did when she answered a question right. “And one day, Kira, while Lin was sitting on the dragon’s back, the dragon spread out his massive wings and flew straight into the sky. Lin had never seen such an incredible place. The dragon and Lin lived there forever.”

“But what about his Mommy and Daddy?”

Grandpa sighed. He bit into his hamburger. Kira wondered if he’d forgotten the rest of his story, but soon he went on: “The thing is, Kira, Lin’s Mommy and Daddy were wizards. And wizards have wonderful magic powers, but they can’t live in the sky. That’s the price they pay for their magic.”

Kira wasn’t sure she liked this story anymore. She wanted to hear a fun story. “Wasn’t he sad without his Mommy and Daddy?”

“Sad? Well, he was at first. Of course you are. It’s scary to live in a new place. But let me tell you something: Lin had his very best friend in the world with him, the dragon. And he met people he didn’t even know about: his parents’ parents, and their parents, and all of the parents to the end of time. And they wrapped so much love around him, he couldn’t help laughing all the time. He’d never been so happy.”

“And … he didn’t miss his Mommy and Daddy at all?”

“Oh, yes. He did, Kira. But whenever he thought about them, Lin just climbed on the dragon’s back and they flew down to earth so he could see what they were doing. They were always busy— there’s a lot of work for wizards—but they were just fine. And Lin’s parents couldn’t see him, but they always knew he was there. So they would smile. And then Lin would go back beyond the clouds, and he lived happily ever after.”

Kira clapped her hands. That turned out to be a good story, after all! Grandpa would never tell her a bad story. Except once he made her cry because he said something mean about Daddy, but he promised her he would never say anything mean again.

I know you love your daddy, Kira. I’m not saying he’s bad. But

can’t good people sometimes do bad things? Maybe they don’t mean

to, but they can do bad things even to people they love.

Daddy won’t do anything bad!

Shhhhh. I’m sorry, Pumpkin. We won’t talk about your daddy.

“Are there any other Lin stories?” Kira asked.

“Oh, there are plenty of Lin stories. Lin gets into mischief every now and then. But I won’t have time to tell you today. Your daddy is about to come call you. He sees it’s getting dark.”

“Are we really leaving, Grandpa? Like you said?”

“Yes, very soon. You’ll know when it’s time,” Grandpa said. “It will be in a rush. Even little Imani will stay home. You won’t have time to bring her. But Teacake is going to come.”

“What about you, Grandpa?”

“Oh, I’ll be here,” Grandpa said. “I can’t go. Not me. But you’ll see me again just a few days later. You sure will. You won’t be away long at all.”

Kira heard Daddy calling her from the front porch. Just like Grandpa said, Daddy was saying it was too dark outside. Grandpa was never wrong. Not even once.

Kira didn’t tell Daddy and Mommy about Grandpa anymore. That one time she said something about him, they acted like she’d said some bad words. Like she was in trouble. You couldn’t talk about some things with grownups.

“Before you go, Kira, tell me …” Grandpa said, leaning over to look at her face. He was smiling. “If you saw a red dragon, would you climb on its back? Would you fly into the clouds?”

“Is it a nice dragon, like Lin’s?”

“Perfectly nice.”

Kira grinned and nodded yes.

Lately, Jessica noticed in church, her mother was wearing pastel colors that beamed across her dark skin. Peach. Rose. Lemon yellow. For years after her father died, even for routine Sunday services, Bea only wore black in church. Then, she slowly progressed to other sober shades like rust or forest green.

Now, for some reason, a rebirth.

Jessica wondered if Bea’s bright new look had anything to do with Randall Gaines, the retired optometrist who sang the male lead in the choir and always managed to glance at Bea during his slightly off-key solos. After church, they stood in the parking lot in the hot sun talking for twenty minutes at a time as the crowd melted around them and worshipers waved goodbye before running to the air-conditioned sanctuary of their cars.

Today, standing beside her mother with a polite smile as she listened to them one-up each other in conversation, Jessica was surprised to learn they’d been having regular meetings at Bea’s house to discuss the Founder’s Day program. They were also both on the community health committee. How cozy, Jessica thought.

Mr. Gaines was tall, like her father had been, with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a West Indian accent. When he spoke to Bea, Jessica happened to notice, he sometimes lighted his hand across her shoulder before self-consciously slipping it away.

“See you Monday night, Bea,” he said at last, nodding.

“Uh-huh …” Jessica muttered as they walked to Bea’s car.

“Not a word out of you,” Bea said.

“I approve,” Jessica said, smiling.

“Oh, just hush.” Jessica saw, right before her mother ducked into the car after opening her door, that she was smiling too.

This was another sign, Jessica decided. Everything was unfolding as it should. She could leave her mother now because Bea wouldn’t need to rely on her company so much. In all of these years, her mother had never paid attention to any man, despite urgings from her daughters. Now, out of nowhere, here was this Randall Gaines coming to her house. Although it was none of her business, Jessica wondered if her mother was enjoying a sex life. Bea was only in her sixties, after all, and Jessica planned on enjoying sex with David until she was ready for the grave.

The thought stole the smile from her face: David would still be a young man then. Would he take an old woman, even a woman only Bea’s age, in his arms? Jessica studied her mother objectively, noting that she was still honestly pretty. The skin on her face didn’t sag, except slightly at the jowls. She had a few laugh lines, but no real wrinkles. The Benton women had always been blessed with uncanny youthfulness as they aged. Could David, or Dawit, or whatever she was supposed to call him now, love her when she grew into her mother’s face?

If only she could keep her own face, always. Always.

Jessica caught herself, disgusted. Lord, what was going through her mind?
Surely every man is vanity,
she thought, remembering the words from the Book of Psalms. She was willing to sacrifice her salvation for a young, pretty face?

At her house, Bea turned on the CD boom box Jessica had bought her for Christmas two years before, playing her old-time gospel songs. Bea always complained that the heavy sound of the new drummer and bass player at church was more like a rock concert than a worship service. She preferred the tried songs, by Mahalia Jackson and The Staple Sisters and Alex Bradford. Jessica understood her point. The old songs were saturated with sorrow and joy like no others. Even a simple organ flourish or a soloist’s earnest voice could bring unexpected tears to her eyes, like now. Out of Bea’s eyesight, Jessica flicked a tear away with her fingertip.

Lord Jesus, am I doing the right thing?

Bea hummed the tune to “My God Is Real” along with Mahalia, taking a seat across from Jessica on her plastic-covered living room sofa. The plastic hissed beneath her weight. “What’s going on in that busy head of yours?” Bea asked.

Jessica half smiled. “A lot more than usual.”

Bea nodded, reflective. “Must be this Africa business. You and David have decided to go, then?”

Jessica’s eyes, involuntarily, dropped from her mother’s. So, Bea had heard about Africa. Up until now, Jessica had only mentioned France as a possibility. But she’d told Alex how David’s editor knew a man in Senegal who had promised to let them stay in his house for at least six months. It was all working out, just like a master plan. Alex must have told Bea. Jessica could trust her sister with most secrets, but apparently not all of them.

“Well, you know what?” Bea went on cheerfully. “I’m not going to say a word about it. I wouldn’t run off to Africa in your place, with a good job and Kira so young, but we’ve always been different people, you and I. And that’s fine. God didn’t make carbon copies. What’s good for me isn’t necessarily the right thing for you, and vice versa.”

Jessica looked at her, stunned at her levelheadedness. “That’s it?” she asked.

Bea pursed her lips, thoughtful. “Just remember I won’t be here forever, and I don’t want my grandchild to forget me. I don’t fly, and I’m not going all the way across the world on any boat.”

“We won’t be gone long, Mom,” Jessica said, but as she heard her own words she realized they might be lies. She didn’t know how long they would be gone. More than at any other point in her life, she didn’t know the first thing about what was to come.

“You just be careful with David,” Bea said suddenly, intruding into her thoughts.

Jessica’s heart honestly jumped. “Be careful?”

“You need to watch out in a new place, with laws that won’t protect you. If things go wrong with you and David, you need to bring Kira right back here as fast as you can. David could take her away from you.”

The warning made Jessica more uneasy than she’d felt all morning. She leaned back in the parlor chair, listening to Mahalia’s assurance that, yes, God is real. And God would understand she was trying to do the right thing, keeping her family together. And God would protect them. Wouldn’t He?

“Don’t worry about us,” Jessica said. “We’re soul mates. Mom. I’ve never been more sure.”

Bea nodded, but she didn’t look satisfied. Jessica’s seven years of marriage hadn’t done much to ease Bea’s doubts about David’s history, or his vague explanations of how he was so self-sufficient and established at such a young age. Now, of course, Jessica could see how flimsily constructed all of David’s lies were. An orphan. A trust account. Bea had always seen through him, even when love made insight impossible for Jessica. Thinking back, Jessica was alarmed at how she’d accepted his word at every turn. And here she was, doing it all over again.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” Jessica asked.

Bea shrugged. “I want to. And I have to admit, he’s done better by you than I ever thought he would. So there’s no reason to doubt his intentions, really. There’s something about him, though, honey. I respect that he’s your husband, but I always had the feeling you should be careful.”

“Why?”

Bea paused, then sighed and shook her head. “Too many unanswered questions. Who knows?” she said sadly. “Maybe I’m just jealous he’s taking you away. Guess I always knew he would.”

Hurriedly, Jessica looked toward the window, hoping to hide the tears about to make themselves known. Her mother, too, was silent, except for occasional humming. “Shoot, let me go heat up the food …” Bea said, standing.

There was plenty of food, since Bea had been expecting Alex to come today too. At Jessica’s request, though, her sister made other plans. She would deal with Alex later, but she’d wanted this time alone with her mother. Proper goodbyes were best done in private. And she was looking for something from Bea, too. Direction, maybe. She felt as though she were perched on a white-water raft, bouncing against boulders with no idea if a calm pool or a crashing waterfall lay in her path.

The worst part of all, she’d decided, was not being able to tell the full truth about anything. She was growing apart from Bea and Alex in ways they would never know. How could David have kept his secrets for so many hundreds of years? Jessica had known only a short time, and she wanted to share it so badly that she ached.

“Mom, you remember how you went to visit Uncle Joe up in New York? And how the traffic made you miss your plane, the one that crashed?” Jessica asked, sampling from her plate of stewed turkey wings, collard greens, and rice and gravy.

“You think I could forget that?”

Jessica smiled. “That was a miracle. We always said it was, but
I know
it was now. I know miracles are real.”

“Shoot, we raised you to believe that.”

“I know, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing to see it. Right? I mean, before that airplane thing, I know you had doubts. Didn’t you?”

Bea gazed at her across the table, one eyebrow raised. She looked concerned. “Jessica … I hear you were in Bible class before you dropped by this morning. I thought you didn’t have time for that. Why are you getting all this religion all of a sudden?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s going on with you?”

Jessica bit her lip, feeling a surge of joy as she remembered David’s touch after he awakened from the dead. The image no longer filled her with fear. Like Christ, he had risen. She’d seen a resurrection. Maybe David was like a prophet, a sign of the messiah’s return. His knowledge and incredible history had to be part of a plan. God hadn’t seen fit to make it all clear to her yet, but she knew He would. She only had to stop questioning and
believe.

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just happy. I’m happy to have Jesus, that’s all. And happy to have David.”

“David’s not taking you to one of those Jim Jones cults, is he?” Bea asked skeptically.

“Mom, quit teasing me,” Jessica said. “I remember what you were like those first two weeks after that plane crashed. Playing gospel all the time, listening to all of the televangelists, reading us Bible verses at night. Don’t even try to deny it. So I’m allowed to get a little too.”

“Well,” Bea said, biting her corn muffin, “I guess it’s all right as long as you don’t get any ideas about joining the choir. You know you can’t sing, and they have enough trouble as it is.”

“That must include Randall Gaines too.”

“That’s right, bless him. Love is blind, but I’m not deaf.”

Together, clutching each other’s hands, they laughed.

Sitting with her mother, listening to gospel and then James Brown, then Tina Turner—music David never played—Jessica forgot about the uncertainties outside. She’d thought this would be difficult, saying goodbye, but she and her mother drank sweet iced tea and laughed into the afternoon like old college roommates.

Neither of them had laughed that way in a long time.